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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292246">Creative Problem Solving</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506'>Project0506</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soft Wars [138]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Gen, Ill-advised approaches to vehicle maintenance, Minor planned shenanigans, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:14:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tup and Dogma run across a problem.  Tup and Dogma propose a solution to that problem.  Coruscant Guards aren't as keen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soft Wars [138]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>353</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Creative Problem Solving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tup doesn’t know what sound he makes or what his face does, but in his periphery Dogma snaps to attention. The velocimeter readout sullenly ticks down lower. That’s not good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s not good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tup chances a look over but Dogma has both hands clenched over each other in his lap and his face squared with the viewshield. Once, not all that long ago, he’d have stabbed himself directly into Tup’s space to ‘fix’ whatever it was Tup was ‘doing wrong’ this time. Tup had learned not to take it personally. Dogma has learned Tup shouldn’t have to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Speeders to either side begin to wind their way past. Dogma flips a Selonian airtaxi driver the same rude two finger salute she flips them. It frees Tup up to run through Tier 1 troubleshooting, if Tier 1 ever happened midflight. He’s going to have to call this Tier Oh-point-five or something similar. Courteously, Tup’s speeder tucks its way into the slow lane, then to the turn to pull off to a side route.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Trouble is, Tup’s got a hand on the steering and he very much didn’t direct that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think,” he says slowly, not knowing how this will go over but very aware it’ll start with ‘not well’ and summarily devolve, “our speeder might have been sliced.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tup gets a four second count through the disbelieving silence before Dogma finds his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>SLICED</em>?” Dogma shrieks. “This is <em>Republic Army Property</em>!” or so the great big cog on the side announces to all in vis-range.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think they care, Dogma.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They should!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma seethes. Tup pops the cover off the console. Their speeder merrily toodles along to destinations unknown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Reprobates,” Dogma hisses and strangles the air. “No respect for military regulations-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They probably don’t care about that either Dogma,” Tup mutters around a multitool he tucks between his teeth to hold the torch steady.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>They should</em>! Society is <em>crumbling</em> because …”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Months of Lt Hardcase’s drills has Tup finding the comm lines in seconds, even though this speeder is a model he hasn’t worked on before. Months more of Anakin’s ‘I don’t know what this’ll do but it’ll help somehow’ approach to vehicle maintenance means Tup is just as adept at boggarting the circuitry in his wrist com to run diagnostics.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uh. Tup is <em>not</em> going to tell Dogma just how far into their systems their intrepid slicer inserted themselves. They have somewhere to be, and that doesn’t include time to scour Coruscant so Dogma can beat some penitence into them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have good news,” Tup starts. “And. Inconvenient news.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you fix it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, no. There isn’t anything to <em>fix</em>, the controller is at the other end of a Republic Army command link and Tup can’t rip that out without ‘creteing the whole comms subsystem. Probably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can reset it,” he offers instead. “It’d take a couple of seconds for the slicer to get back in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Enough time to put us down,” Dogma agrees. Tup knows he’s caught the sidestep. Tup’s a little thrilled that Dogma trusts that he’s got a reason for it. “What’s the good news?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tup giggles, only passingly manic. “That was the good news.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.” Dogma steels himself. “Okay I’m ready.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll have to do a full shutdown.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They both twist to look at the miles of Coruscant open air that stretch beneath their floorboards, crisscrossed with lanes and lanes of traffic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Freefall,” Dogma mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Terminal velocity is about 8 seconds.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t need more than 3.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma sighs, deep and aggrieved. “I’m starting to see why Lt Jesse hates Taungsdays,” he grumbles but it isn’t an objection. No, it’s far from an objection. He braces both feet in the footwell and both hands against the console. No questions asked, just full and total trust in Tup’s expertise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tup doesn’t know what he did to deserve a friend like Dogma, but it must have been spectacular.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“At the next corner,” Tup warns, since their slicer has been polite enough to slow at every bend. Dogma nods once, stress carving deep lines across his brow. Tup grits his teeth in concentration.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Five.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Four.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Three.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘<em>Every single one of you </em><em>is</em> <em><span class="u">karking insane</span></em><em>!’</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a vod, it’s unmistakably <em>a vod</em> bellowing at them from their own speeder speakers. Tup doesn’t have to see the outrage blooming on Dogma’s face to know it’s there. He feels the exact same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘<em>Do </em><em><span class="u">not</span> cut this speeder’s engines and drop out of the sky, troopers. I can<span class="u">not</span> believe I have to make this a karking order!’</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And we’re supposed to take orders from someone misappropriating GAR resources-” Dogma snarls. He’s half-crawled over Tup’s lap to grimace directly at the tiny blinking interior vis-sensor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He taps, soundlessly, on Tup’s thigh in that percussive equivalent to battlesign they'd come up with, for those days when Dogma wants neither to talk nor look at someone. <em>Cheats</em>, the letters pick out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cheats? What – no. This <em>really</em> can’t be the Guard, can it? Tup finds himself just as outraged as Dogma. Those dirty rotten – it’s not as though Tup and Dogma missing the match will make Lt Hardcase and the rest <em>lose</em> at Playground this evening. It’s <em>Lt Hardcase</em>.  And Lt Jesse, Tup supposes, and some others too. But the fact that these scum scummers would even <em>try-</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘<em>Am I?’</em> the vod on comms says and it would come across as smarmy if it could sound anything but far past tired and into that state where the entire galaxy is annoying.<em> ‘Far as I can tell I’m just doing some auditing.’</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma’s eye twitches. It sounds like an excuse he’d use. Tup pats him in sympathy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>P</em><em>lan</em>? Tup taps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma’s response is immediate.<em> You run. I fight.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Get kriffed</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma flushes. He’s a little pleased, a little smiling: he always is when one of them reminds him they will not leave him behind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he’s more than a little stubborn. <em>New toys</em>, he reminds and kark.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lt Hardcase got really excited about Tup’s new Goo Grenades. Tup too, admittedly. They’re the first ones he’s designed himself and built to his own specs. They’re going to give them a test run today, on the empty field after their match against the Guard. And maybe Lt Hardcase might look the other way if one or two of them got loose <em>during</em> said match. Accidentally.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tup has the very first eight of them in his pack. He’s not going to let <em>Guard</em> get their hands on them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He glares, and Dogma grins the one that says he knows he won.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There are two Guards waiting for them on the platform. Dogma hisses <em>Thire</em> like a hero in a holocartoon when faced with his nemesis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who’s the other one?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma stares hard. “Guard CT,” he finally dismisses. “Won’t be an issue.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even from there, Tup can see the Guard CT’s offense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re not going to keep you long,” the one Dogma identified as Thire calls up merrily as they drift along and transition to landing. “Just going to do a quick check through, all over in just a second since I’m sure you boys aren’t planning on using anything <em>not expressly permitted</em> in a paint war.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cheating Guards, trying to catch them maybe planning to cheat. Ugh. <em>Guards</em>. Tup wants to paintball that Thire’s smug face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dogma steals the baton from Tup’s right hip holster to join his one. He wraps Tup’s fist around the straps of his jetpack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they move, there isn’t any audible cue. It’s just Dogma leaping forward, baton in each hand, at the CT’s head. It’s just Tup using Dogma’s momentum to flip himself over the side of the speeder, Thire in annoyed (delayed, how how unfortunate it must be to have substandard equipment) pursuit. Tup’s belly tumbles with the fractions of seconds of fall before the jetpack roars to life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They don’t have to say anything, Tup and Dogma, but they can feel each other’s glee in the backs of their minds.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Taungsdays, Tup decides, are pretty alright with a friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475882">how to ensure your speeder doesn't get sliced: a guide by torrent</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro29/pseuds/Ro29">Ro29</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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